What's in a Name?
by IncantationBella
Summary: <html><head></head>Oh, how he hated that name. Not that it was a bad name; it was a perfectly fine name his country's first president, but it just didn't suit the small child.</html>


**How EXACTLY did Sticky receive his famous nickname? Oneshot, all about Sticky, because it is true that he is terribly ignored in the Mysterious Benedict Society fanfics.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING!**

"Four eyes!" "Brainiac!" "Weirdo!" "Nerd!"

A young George Washington sat quietly under a large maple tree in Central Stonetown Elementary's playground, studying a thick history textbook and trying his best to ignore the taunting remarks of his classmates who were huddled around him.

No, this wasn't George Washington, the regal man who was a key founding father of the United States of America, with the powdered wig and the buckled shoes. This George Washington was a rather nervous six-year-old boy with tea colored skin and large, round spectacles that were a bit too large for his thin face. He was small and very skinny, which made it seem as if he would snap like a twig on impact.

"George Washington!" A beefy third grade boy with short, stocky legs and a buzz cut called tauntingly to the poor child, who did his best to ignore the tormentor, and instead continued reading his textbook. "Hey, George Washington!" the boy smirked. "Fourscore and seventy years ago..." He pompously began, much to the hilarity of his peers.

The younger boy looked away. He felt compelled to turn to the bully and inform him that the particular speech began 'Fourscore and _seven_ years ago', not seventy, and that it wasn't even George Washington who spoke those words, but Abraham Lincoln, who was elected president over sixty years after George Washington had already died. But rather than correcting the apish child teasing him, George stayed silent, too terrified to look up from his book. His hands quickly shot up to polish his spectacles, something he often did when nervous.

George was used to these teasings; he had been bullied for as long as he could remember. He had never really had any friends, or much self confidence, for that matter. His only refuge was in his books, for he dearly loved to read. He was exceptionally gifted, and could finish a decent sized chapter book in a little over an hour, and had already began reading the large encyclopedias stacked in his father's study. He was only six years old, and yet he had already read more books than the average person reads in a lifetime.

"Have you gone deaf, George Washington?" A lanky fourth grade girl with glittering braces and stringy red hair piped in, grinning maliciously.

George sighed. Oh how he absolutely _hated_ that name. Not that it was a _bad_ name; it was a perfectly fine name his country's first president, but it just didn't suit the small first grader. A name like that came with high expectations. People presumed that a boy with such a great name ought to be fearless and strong, both of which George was not. However, it wasn't that the boy was usual, he _was_ quite extraordinary, just in his own, quiet way. But this way was often overlooked, due to his timid personality.

George had always been an easy target for vicious bullies hungry for a laugh; their merriment had for so long come at George's expense. For years his weakness and his historic name had been subject to a tremendous amount of elementary mockery. And it wasn't as if he could do anything to stop their ridicule, as he was much too afraid to interfere.

"Hey nerd," The first third grade boy said. "Do you think you can just ignore us? Huh?" The crowd began closing in on George, the children chanting various insults.

"Book worm!" "Geek!" "Loser!" "Wimp!"

He had heard all the insults a hundred times; the students most certainly won no medals for creativity. Still, each insult cut into the sensitive child like a gleaming blade.

George could feel the hot, embarrassed tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly gathered up his things and scurried away, desperate to flee the cruel laughter and malicious comments from the older children. He sat alone on a battered wooden picnic table, and cried silently in solitude.

"Are you all right?" George jumped, surprised. He turned around to see who's small voice had called to him. Behind him was a second grade girl, barely taller than the young Mr. Washington, with rosy cheeks and bright, green eyes. She had fair, chin-length blonde hair that was sticking up in all the wrong directions. The girl smiled comfortingly at the crying boy.

George quickly wiped his eyes, embarrassed, and mumbled a garbled reply while anxiously polishing his streaked glasses.

The blonde girl sat beside him on the picnic bench. "I saw how horrid those other kids were treating you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

George stared dumbfounded at the smiling girl. Nobody had ever cared enough to comfort him before.

"I'm Kristy," she told him. "What's your name?" The girl prodded him.

"George," George muttered, then added under his breath, "Washington."

"George Washington!" Kristy exclaimed. George blushed, feeling horribly self conscious, and wishing he hadn't spoken his full name. "Why, that doesn't suit you very much at all!"

George looked down at his lap and made no reply.

The girl noticed his obvious embarrassment and quickly added, "Well it isn't a _bad_ name, it's just you don't look very much like a George Washington."

George looked back up to her. "What am I supposed to do about it?" He sniffled. "It's my name, and there isn't anything I can do to change it."

"Do you have a middle name?" Kristy questioned him.

George shook his head sadly.

"How about a nickname? You could go by a nickname!" She eagerly shouted, looking hopefully at George, hoping he would approve of her proposition.

"I've never had a nickname," George said. "I don't know what mine would be."

The young girl studied George for a moment. "Hmm," She mumbled, deep in concentration. "Do you have a favorite color?"

"Malachite," he replied instantly, then seeing the Kristy's blank expression, he blushed and looked back down at his fidgeting hands.

"Not that," She said, shaking her head. "That'll never catch on. What are you good at?"

George thought for a moment, then shook his head hopelessly. "Nothing, really."

"C'mon!" The green eyed girl persisted. "Everybody's good at something!"

George considered this, then said. "Well, I like to read quite a lot, but I'd rather not be called Book Worm. I can also remember things fairly well."

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." George started, trying to find the words to explain himself. "It's a bit like, whatever I read, or see, it just sort of sticks to my head, and I never forget it."

Kristy thought this over. "So what you're saying is that your mind is... Sticky?"

George frowned, and shuffled his feet nervously. "I know it probably sounds stupid..."

"Sticky!" She suddenly exclaimed. "That's you! You're Sticky!"

"What do you mean?"

"That could be your nickname!" She shouted, grinning broadly. She looked him over. "It suits you!" She declared triumphantly.

George contemplated this, then smiled. "Maybe you're right."

The bell rang, announcing the end of recess. Kristy hopped up from her seat. "Goodbye, Sticky!" She called, before bounding back to her class.

George smiled at his nickname, and waved farewell to his new friend. _Sticky..._ He thought. _It did suit him quite nicely._

**So there you have it. It isn't exactly my best work... Hm. I don't know. It isn't exactly impressing me. I had originally imaged the little girl as looking like a young Kate, but then I figured that Kate giving Sticky his nickname when she was seven made absolutely no sense, unless of course she attended the elementary school before joining the circus, and** **somehow fell and bumped her head in the circus, causing her to forget all about George Washington, so that she wouldn't remember him when meeting with five or so years later. Pretty far fetched huh? So I changed her to Kristy.**

**Now that I think of it, Malachite would actually be a pretty cool nickname.**


End file.
